


Fenestrane Synthesis

by dripepper



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), London Spy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternating Third Person POV, Anxiety, Canon Autistic Character, Developing Relationship, M/M, Minor James Bond/Madeleine Swann, Past Tense, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-SPECTRE, Switching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-05-18 23:14:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5946958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dripepper/pseuds/dripepper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James wants Q back (and Danny). Q wants peace of mind (and Alex). Alex and Danny just want to understand their own rules (and Q, and James). They will figure it out (eventually).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my loving and patient beta reading trio [fallingaway](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingaway), [MoonyJ4M](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonyJ4M), and Gi . Also thanks to my cheering and supporting boys. All mistakes are mine.  
> The chapters will be posted kinda erratically, I'm sorry. The first chapter is third person Bond POV, the next will be Danny's and so on.

It didn't take long for the Great Britain to put itself in a big enough danger and for James to feel the urge to come back. Madeleine didn't like it at all. They argued only once, but James had made his mind as soon as he talked to Eve. He was wasting time there.

She gave up first.

"You should go. This is not working anymore. But, you know, if you go--" she said. The silence after was painful, but not as painful as James feared. It was just the final realization that he was not even in love; he had never been in love. Maybe _they_  have never been.

"I know."  _Never come back._

They didn't hug nor kiss. Madeleine picked her pool bag and closed the door behind her without a sound. James closed his eyes to keep that last image forever: the beautiful natural waves of her blond hair, her white summer dress, her delicate feet in white and silver flip-flops, the big blue pool bag. Her eyes forever hidden behind the shades. 

-

James expected M to be cold towards him after he left, and he was right. Eve was even colder; she had called him as the last and probably least resources. She didn't even seem willing to flirt anymore. Tanner seemed at least a little happy to see him back, as always, but he was giving him some strange kind of silent treatment when he talked, just not as much as the usual.

James expected Q to be the coldest one, the hurt one, the lost, abandoned puppy; he expected to see those big gray eyes painted with emotional green. James never thought too much about Q's obvious lust for him, dismissing it as a small and destined to pass, though useful, crush.

Q gave him a smile, a big hug and a fucking kiss on the fucking cheek.  

"Welcome back! We were waiting for you," he said with a sly, beautiful grin. "Make yourself _home._ "

Apparently the crush was small and had indeed passed. Only then James Bond discovered that, in fact, he wasn't expecting that.

-

They had fucked five times, two months before the Spectre clusterfuck. All of them drunk shags, all of them almost too good, almost too emotional. James still didn't know Q's name, so his whispers were _Q_  and _boy_  and _brat_  and, only once, _mine_. That was the fifth time, obviously. Q never whispered, he just emitted that right kind of obscene moans and requests (orders) and, at that fifth time, he cried  _James_ _James_ _JamesJame_ s _JamesJames_  until they came and somehow this made the _mine_  felt very adequate. In the end they were happy, not even drunk anymore, just sharing a panting moment together. So good, too good. None of them was surprised that it was the last time.

A part of James hoped that it would be more, so much more, but the rest of him didn't want that, not consciously. He hated this particular type of dubious feelings, since only love/hate made sense to him; in his mind, he wants what he wants and that is it. If things get complicated, it's always better just to kill off the feeling completely.

Another part of him never even met Madeleine, never slept with her, never got away from MI6, never got away from Q's arms. _Boy, brat, mine_.

-

Unfortunately, after the hug and the bitter thoughts afterwards, James knew he had little time to think about anything but the mission. On the next morning, a new leather box was waiting for him on Q's table, already complete with another modern Walther PPK, another damn radio, and the smallest GPS device that James had ever seen; it was just about the size of the radio. 

"I was thinking about merging them in only one device, but if they're separeted you'll still have one if you lose the other," Q sighed, a small smile in the corner of his lips, looking at the screen of his computer. "Think about it. Radio on the front, GPS on the back. It would be _so_ nice."

James found time to discover that he missed Q being gratuitously mean to him.

"Don't you think this is too small to be useful as a GPS, Q?" James asked.

"Oh, cataract? Glaucoma? Age related presbyopia?" he retorted with a serious face. The sudden lack of a smile shut James' witty response. Q looked condescendingly at James, like he would look at an old lady in need. "Trust me, it will be more than enough in a pinch. If you really need something bigger to look at and find yourself, it's also a projector. A nice one, if I say so myself."

"I bet. But not explosive," James said, trying to keep the eye contact, condescending or not. He failed, and Q's eyes were back to the screen and fingers back to the keyboard before James ended the sentence.

"Not even remotely."

A beat. Two. James didn't have the time, but he had to say something.

"Look, Q, after the mission is over--"

"Yes, 007, after this all ends I'll make an appointment for you with the ophthalmologist," Q sighed with fake exasperation. His small smile was back, but his eyes were still glued to the screen. It was like Q was bantering to the mic, to the earpiece of some 007 far away in space or time, not to the real human being less than a step from him.

"Too soon?" James asked.

"Too late. Have a nice mission, 007," Q said with his 'this conversation is over' tone. He gave off the impression of being too busy with some trivial thing like some coding.

James pondered if he should talk about the car he brought back almost in one piece, or how the hell was he supposed to use the GPS, or how ever since the hug (The Fucking Hug) he was weirdly bothered by the idea that Q just wasn't into him anymore. 

"Thank you, Q. It will be," James said, and left.

-

It wasn't. It was a success of sorts (England was safe, for now), but Bond came back with at least two broken ribs plus a few other serious injuries. He also brought back a lot of lies; to keep the enemy chief's daughters alive and safe, he had to make some questionable decisions. Among them, James killed an ally. Amundsen was a bad, violent, sadistic man, but an ally anyway. He was by the Queen and Country's side until the very end. He was useful, he had valuable information, and most importantly, he shouldn't have been killed by a double-oh. 

If it had happened before he left MI6, he would have told the truth. But, after everything, MI6 wasn't trusting him that much. His difficult decisions would be scrutinized as a rookie's, he would be called to talk about them, maybe even a formal judgment would be made. As if his difficult decisions weren't haunting him already. 

So James crafted his lies carefully. With them, he wrote a beautiful report, showing a 007 as efficient as ever: just enough heroic with the expected side of minor errors and small problems. 

M loved the report. He was saddened by the death of the ally.

"Amundsen was a bit strange, a bit... difficult," M conceded. "But he was one of our best out there. He spared no effort for us."

James did his best to not grimace.  

"Of course, M. Now I guess I have to go to Medical..."

"Go, Bond. And thank you again."

James went straight to his flat.

-

After four or five days at home, James concluded that he really had to go to Medical. His ribs weren't healing well. Probably related to old age, James thought.  At least he wasn't blind yet, despite Q's opinion.

After Medical, he went to debrief with Q at his basement. Q was on his chair, one hand on the keyboard, another on the arm of a tall man. The tall man was leaning lightly on the table, playing with a lock of Q's hair. They were talking in a low voice. The intimacy seemed somewhat new, but it was there nonetheless.

"Come in for once, 007," Q said after a minute.

He obeyed. The man took his hand off Q's hair and turned his head to James, but didn't move otherwise. James recognized him, then. Alistair Turner. James knew the basics about him: MI6, impeccable record, Scottish, late 20's, a male partner (or at least had one until a few months before), and a mother and a father: both spies, both suspected of being moles. Despite or because of that, Turner was a vital part of MI6 counterintelligence. Which probably meant that, if Turner's presence wasn't a happy coincidence, James was fucked. 

But he couldn't blame Q to be sleeping with the guy. Turner was gorgeous. 

"Good evening, Q. Turner," James said.

Turner responded him with a small nod before turning to Q again. 

"I've got to go. Call me if you need me?"

"Okay," Q said, smiling. God, James missed that smile. Turner gave Q a brief kiss and a even briefer smile. 

"007," Turner said as he passed by James. He didn't look jealous; always a punch on James ego, but right now so much better than the alternative.

"I brought your stuff back, Q," James said, putting the radio and the GPS on the table. Both were still shinning and functioning. "I wouldn't be alive if not for your GPS. I used both the projector and the bloody small screen. They were very useful to me when I was in the middle of nowhere."

"I mustn't ask about the gun, right?" Q asked, after a deep sigh.

"If you don't ask I don't have to lie," James joked. 

Q looked at him. 

"There are a few of your things in my flat," he said, stuttering just a little. "I need you to go get them tonight, because... you know. Because." 

James never left anything on Q's flat. He didn't even have much _things_ anyway.

"Of course, Q. I'm sorry." Every time James was at Q's flat, before, it was to have sex with him. So this time had all the chances to be painful, or awkward, or painfully awkward. "You'll be there?"

"Yes. And Alistair, too."

James nodded. He was fucked indeed.

-

James arrived early at Q's home. Q was still almost fully dressed, but his feet were bare. He didn't say anything after opening the door for James and quickly busied himself in the kitchen. The cats were nowhere to be seen, probably sleeping in one of the bedrooms. James missed the cats, very consciously, in many of his lazy mornings with Madeleine.

"So," James started. "I never knew you had a thing for counterintelligence." 

"007, could you be an adult about it, please?" 

"I'm being an adult. But I thought he had a boyfriend?"

"He has," Q said. "They're open. Maybe polyamorous? I'm not sure yet."

James liked open relationships and other alternative arrangements. They were a problem only in his marks and targets, because boredom and betrayal are important and easily manipulated emotions. 

"And are you okay with that?" he asked. 

Q sighed. He was opening the last takeaway box and putting its content in a more convenient pot. James let himself be hypnotized by the precise movements of Q's hands. 

"Of course I'm okay with that, 007," he said, after a few long minutes. "I'm polyamorous myself, though a solo-poly since two or three years ago."

Well, Q's records and rumors about him surely talked about a venturesome love life. James just hadn't had the opportunity to talk about it. 

"As a poly," Q continued in a much colder tone "I think honesty is the most valuable quality. Reliability, companionship, you know?"

James felt his mouth dry. 

"Q..."

The door opened, because of course Turner already had a key. Of course he chose the right time to arrive. Of course that wearing more casual clothes he was even more like a vision, a bloody Greek god. He greeted Q with another light kiss and James with yet another nod. He looked at James with dispassionate mistrust. James was trying to not find it hot.

"Do you both want to eat?" Q asked. "I bought food for three just in case." 

"Yes, please," James said, because the food smelled delicious and because Q always knew exactly what he wanted to eat.

"I'm sorry," Turner said, his ears turning bright red, his lips starting to tremble slightly. He looked truly troubled, as if eating had been a treason. "I ate with Danny. I didn't knew, I'm sor--"

James did his best to not cover his own face with his hands. The last thing he needed was for Q's hot spy lover to be cute as well.

"D-don't worry!" Q answered, his eyes like plates behind his glasses. Another awkwardly cute man. "I'll just keep the leftovers in the fridge and have them at lunch tomorrow, it's not a problem at all."   

Turner stayed quiet while Q served James, clearly recomposing himself. In a minute he was looking like a cold rock again, sitting straight, hands on knees, relaxing a little only when Q sat by his side. James was intrigued by them. What in the world were their dynamics? And the sex? With James, Q was free, lavish, selfish, lustful, completely unapologetic of what he liked or disliked. He liked almost anything. At first it was difficult to imagine Turner fucking, but if he was as responsive in bed as he was to embarrassment, Q and him would form a nice picture. This and Turner's big hands running over Q's thinner body, his (probably) big cock in Q's smaller hands, and between his eager pink lips. James would love to watch, to be with them. He knew nothing about Turner but the man was a vision and, as narcissistic as it sounded, James trusted in Q's taste in men.

Now James was hard; he was also missing Q like never before, and apparently he wanted Turner as well. Great. His food was getting cold but he couldn't bring himself to eat. 

"Q, I suppose you're gonna tell me why I'm here?" he said, mostly to distract himself.

But it was Turner who talked. As he talked, he looked only to James' mouth, never to his eyes. He had a deep, rich voice. At first James imagined him singing, then he imagined him moaning, then he finally tried to pay real attention to the careful words.

"...the patterns of your report are wrong. Dates and hours that make no sense. Your actions are... erratic." He fixed his look on Q's hands. Q took Turner's hands between his own. 

"He asked me if I really trust you-- as an agent, I mean," Q said, serious. "He told me that your report is a well calculated bogus."

James looked to Turner's mouth, then to Q's eyes. Q nodded lightly, like a not prearranged code for _we're safe here_.

"Well," James said. "it is."

-

James drank two doses of scotch before saying anything else. He drank a lot more while telling the whole story; Q and Turner were drinking with him after a while. He told them every single detail, all the things that never made it to the final cut of his reports. The real creepiness of the bad guys, the real sadness of the innocents' deaths and injuries. Some of his own pain, too, but it wasn't a heart-to-heart. He was trying to protect himself of their mistrust, and also trying to offer something to Q. If not an explanation, a small beg: _I am human_. Even if it didn't bring Q back to him, James hoped that it would make things somewhat better.

Much later, they were drunk and tired. Turner was much more relaxed and trusting, though his manners didn't change that much, while Q seemed to be just sad. They said goodnight to James. Q didn't ask and James didn't say whether he would leave or stay. He knew where the guest room was, the sofa was comfortable enough too. There was also enough scotch for him to spend just about the entire night drinking. At least that was his plan until the sex noises started to get too loud.

He got up without thinking. Their door was open, he just had to push a little more to enter.

They were, indeed, a fine picture. Q was riding Turner, supporting himself with his palms flat on Turner's chest. Turner had his head thrown back, his mouth open in a silent moan, his hands clutching Q's hip. His fingertips were so strong against Q's skin that they would leave a constellation of light bruises.

Q didn't acknowledge James' presence except he decided to support his hands on Turner's tights instead, therefore putting his body fully on display. James wanted to join them even more than he was enjoying the show, but he held back. It would be yet another treason. So he adjusted himself in silence.

Q and Turner came within seconds from one another. Q hugged Turner and fell on his side, his back turned to the door. Now that they were face to face, Turner really looked at James. His eyes were full of something that James wasn't able to understand, not yet. Right there, it resembled innocence.

James closed the bedroom door behind him and got out of the flat as fast as he could.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my incredible resilient beta team [fallingaway](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingaway), [MoonyJ4M](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonyJ4M), and Gi. 
> 
> Thank you for the reviews and kudos to the first chapter. I'm sorry this one is so late! Sadly I can't promise anything about when I'll post the next (probably sooner than later), but I really promise I'll write this fic until the very end. 
> 
> The next chapter will be Q's POV.

It was his idea that they should see other people too, but Danny was a mess anyway. Everything he knew about Q was a few of Alex words:

"Q is a genius in his field. He saved my life. He saved yours." And, after a pause: "He looks very much like you."

Alex didn't say it, but Danny caught between the lines that Q was some kind of boss at MI6. Q took Alex under his wing as soon as he discovered that important people from other agencies were unsettled by Alex's studies. According to Scottie, a spy could die for a lot less. Also according to Scottie, homophobia was still a problem at MI6 and if they knew about Danny they would like Alex even less than they did at the moment.

Of course they knew about Danny and now Danny knew about them as well. Alex told him. Danny didn't get mad about the lies, the eight months of lies. If anything, he loved Alex even more, because Alex was clever and resourceful and bold and, most important of all, he'd managed to survive.

Some weeks later they talked again about dating other people. Alex said "I don't need it" again, but this time something was off. Danny didn't need much to discover Alex wanted to kiss Q. Alex didn't know if he wanted to shag him yet, although there was a strong possibility.

In Danny's mind, Q was a older, collected man. Maybe he had brown (graying?) wavy hair like Danny's or a funny nose like his, but Q surely was a lot prettier than him. And rich, of course. A genius like Alex, a spy like Alex. Alex didn't even believe in soulmates, and surely neither did Q.

Danny bit back his jealousy. He smiled his best "I-am-always-okay" smile.

"You should talk to him, Alex. Ask him out."

"I don't know how," Alex said, distraught.

"Then just say that we can see other people," Danny said. He had been in this kind of situation a few times. "If he wants you, he will say something."

To Danny's misery, it worked. Q and Alex had a few dates; always on Wednesdays, when Danny usually met Scottie. Scottie said that Danny was condemned to be hurt by this arrangement.

Every Wednesday Danny slept at Scottie's house, because it was easier. There he could distracted himself, get some company, sleep on sheets that didn't smell like Alex.

-

Danny didn't have to work that Thursday. When he woke up and saw that Scottie wasn't home, he helped himself to breakfast. He was ready to come back to bed and text Alex when he heard a couple of rhythmic knocks on the door.

Danny quickly checked if he was decent enough and decided that a combination of an old t-shirt and sweatpants, though barefoot, did the trick. He didn't find it weird because Scottie used to receive a lot of mail and stuff. He even ordered his groceries online.

But there was no grocery awating. It was a blond man in a gray suit that was looking at him. His eyes were blue as an iceberg. The man looked very confused for some reason, maybe because he was expecting Scottie to open the door? Surely not because there was a younger man at Scottie's house. Or maybe this man was Scottie's lover, but he was hardly Scottie's type.

"Hi," Danny said, not frowning nor smiling, though he wanted to do both. "Can I help you?"

The man seemed to understand something and gave back the smile with a mischievous, charming manner. The way he was looking at Danny changed to something subtly more seductive, almost predatory.

"Good morning. Is Scottie home?" he asked, but it was like he was trying to find the answer on Danny's face, not on his words.

"No," Danny answered. "Do you want to leave a message? Your name is...?"

The man held out his hand.

"My name is Bond, James Bond," he said when Danny shook his hand, his voice like a caress. His hand was calloused and strong. "I'm an old friend. I would like to wait for him, if you don't mind."

"I don't know when he'll be back," Danny said, uncertain. "Maybe it'll take just a couple of minutes, maybe the whole day."

"I'll wait in my car, then. Thank you, Mister...?" Bond said with a more sincere smile, his face muscles forming the most beautiful wrinkles.

"Danny. My name's Danny," he said, finally smiling back. The man was really charming, even if a little scary. He was so enchanting that Danny couldn't even put his finger on why exactly he thought Bond was scary.

"Thank you, Danny. I'll be outside waiting, then."

"You can call him."

"Of course. But I'll just wait, thank you."

Danny closed the door. A minute later he put on his sneakers, took a pack of cigarettes and got out. He couldn't resist to know more about the guy and God knew he needed a distraction anyway.

Bond was leaning on his quite fancy car. Danny leaned beside him and offered him a cigarette. Bond took one. They smoked in silence for a while.

"So," Danny started. "You said you were an old friend?"

"Yes. He had a job in a certain office in the 60's," Bond said. "At the time I was not there yet, of course, but now I happen to work at the same office."

_Espionage_. Danny discovered that part of Scottie's past only recently. Scottie told him it all to prove that he wasn't interested in putting Alex in any kind of danger, that he wasn't one of them.

Now this Bond fellow was probably one of them. Great. They were just proliferating like fucking rabbits.

His new conclusion also explained that Bond's subtle, weird movements were caused by a gun well hidden under his armpits.

Danny lit another cigarette. He had almost stopped smoking, before, but with Alex's life at risk... well. Then Q arrived and. You know.

Q. At least Bond wasn't Q; he didn't look like Danny at all, but he worked with Q. Then that was the reason for his first surprised look.

"He really looks like me that much, huh?"

Bond was obviously surprised. Danny watched his face changing again; it stopped showing real emotions completely.

"Yes." And, after awhile, "you could be brothers."

"I bet." Danny didn't have brothers or any family that counted. He didn't want to imagine his life if he had grown up with a genius gay or bi older brother: another victim for his parents or yet another person to abandon him.

Or, maybe, a friend.

"His features are a bit sharper than yours," Bond said, his eyes fixed to some imaginary thing, or person, ahead. "He is even thinner than you. He is paler, his hair darker. His bloody green eyes are maybe a bit greener. He still have spots."

Another small pause.

"You are very fond of him," Danny said. He thought Alex was the only one but it seemed like everyone was in love with Q.

Bond smiled, almost laughed. Perhaps he didn't laugh because he didn't know how to do it anymore, but the amusement was there.

"He is also much less perceptive," Bond said and looked at him, still smiling.

Danny smiled too.

-

Danny decided to go back to the apartment, Bond said he would wait a little more. Bond took Danny's hand and kissed it as a goodbye. Somehow he made the act feel natural, as if men kissed other men's hands all the time. The feeling of his lips and stubble lingered there.

-

As soon as Danny entered he saw that Scottie had left a voice message, telling him he had arrived safely at Cardiff. Danny checked the calendar and yes, Scottie had indeed said something about Cardiff and the 7th of September. Danny got out of the house as quickly as he could but Bond's car was already around the corner.

Danny took a long shower. He liked Scottie's shower better than Alex's, except that he was missing Alex. Right there the ambient seemed too Alexless. He wanted to talk to him about James Bond and, if Alex was willing to talk, Danny wanted to listen about Q.

-

Danny had dinner with Sara at their place. She was having a lot of problems, mostly comprising of money, family, and men. Danny was trying to be a good friend, being useful and thoughtful, even if his mind was all full of Alex.

Danny had more money now since he wasn't taking drugs anymore. That, and Alex paying every meal they had together. He also didn't have family problems because he just stopped thinking about them. And men problems.... he was not sure.

Later, Pavel and Sara went out to some club. Danny was waiting for Alex, listening to 80's electronic music on Pavel's new almost fancy stereo, and dancing a little. He missed all the dancing of his old night life, but he knew that the drugs were a big part of it, so no, it wasn't worth it anymore.

He also missed the drugs, though.

He opened the door only in his briefs, as always, when Alex arrived. Alex gave him a big hug, almost lifting him up.

"I missed you," Alex said, hiding his face between Danny's neck and shoulder. "I missed you," he repeated. They were apart for just two days but Danny understood. With Q, Alex probably needed to learn a lot of new stuff, he needed to stay alert. Maybe he needed to not-think-about-Danny and Danny could just imagine how tiresome not-think-about-Alex would be. Even if it was compensated by everything else Q had to offer, of course.

Danny kissed Alex's hair, temple, cheek, lips. Alex kissed him back like a dying man finally finding his thread of life again. His urgency was delicious to Danny. Danny started to open Alex's shirt because the I need to fuck him now thought was already too strong. Alex opened his own belt, kissing and biting Danny's ear, both panting hard.

The rhythm calmed down when they finally got to bed, both naked. There, they kissed slower. Danny loved the moist heat feeling of skin touching skin from head to toes. They parted as soon as they felt the rush coming back.

It was a well rehearsed dance. Alex put the condom on Danny, showering him in kisses and touches and nuzzles. Danny lubed him whilst sucking the side of his cock or his balls or his perineum. Not the safest sexual practice, but he never quite resisted it.

-

They always kissed one more time before anything else; they kissed until the urge became too much again. Most of the times Danny would open Alex legs and fuck him looking at his face, that beautiful mouth of his still accessible for appreciation and kisses. Other times he would turn Alex around and fuck him from behind, making Alex rub his own cock against the mattress. Though less romantic, they always came faster this way.

After the first orgasm they usually just talked. In rarer times, they took a nap together or ate something. Then they made out and decided what to do next.

"Do you want to fuck me?" Danny would ask, words against Alex's skin, his voice hoarse from desire. "Or I can eat your ass, if you want. I can suck your cock. We can do anything."

In the very beginning Alex would choose to suck Danny's cock or just ask to be fucked again. Then he started to pick one or another suggestion. After five or six months he started to ask non-suggested things once in a while. Nothing too kinky, in Danny's opinion: shower sex, to rim Danny until he came, some very light food play. Only once Alex asked in a small voice:

"We could watch something. If you want."

They had good fun looking for the right kind of porn, but when they found it Danny didn't even look at it twice. He watched Alex instead.

Alex didn't have the jaded, vaguely aroused eyes of other men watching porn. It was like the other couple was there with them and Alex could savor every moan and every drop of sweat. Danny put Alex on his lap and jacked him off until he came.

After, when they were back to just talking again, Alex said he never really watched porn when he was alone.

"Those people are always faking it." He stayed quiet for a long time. Danny was listening to his heartbeats. "But, if you are here, it's real."

-

That night they stayed just cuddling for a long time.

"I met a man," Danny said, finally. He kissed Alex's suddenly tense shoulders. "Not that kind of meeting, Alex. You are our only Casanova."

Alex smiled.

"I'm not... jealous," Alex defended himself, quietly playful. "I didn't even ask anything."

"I know you're asking now!" Danny laughed. "His name is James Bond."

Alex's posture got definitely rigid.

"I know James Bond," he said in a careful voice. "He is a... dangerous man."

"I got that, thank you," Danny said, still in good spirits. "But it seems like everyone is a spy these days."

"He isn't an ordinary spy. He is a killer, Danny. A murderer for the Queen and the Country."

Danny isn't surprised. He met killers before, killers who had far worse motivations. He knew the shadows, he wasn't afraid of those kind of men.

"Was he plotting to kill you, along those people?" he asked.

"No, he wasn't," Alex said. He was playing with Danny's hair, caressing his ear and face, scratching his neck lightly. And then, "he is Q's ex-boyfriend."

"Oh," Danny said, actually surprised. "Ex?"

Alex hummed a small noncommittal sound.

"I don't know why. Q still has feelings for him," he continued.

After a couple of minutes of silence, Danny kissed Alex's mouth before saying anything else. Alex closed his eyes and snuggled a little against him, making Danny feel a bit guilty.

"So," Danny started. "are you and Q okay?" As expected, Alex was startled. His eyes flew open. Danny went on. "You don't need to answer. I'm just telling you that it's alright if you want to talk to me about him. Or about anything else, really."

Alex kissed him.

"I want you again," he whispered, his mouth open under Danny's. "Fuck me again."

-

Some time later, Alex seemed ready to bring up the conversation again.

"Q is okay, we are okay." He kissed Danny's hair. "It's different."

"What is different? The sex? The feelings?" Danny asked.

"Both. He is..." It seemed like Alex wanted to talk and to avoid the topic forever at the same time. "I don't know."

"Is James Bond a problem?"

This was a question that Alex knew how to answer.

"It's hard for him to say 'no' to Bond. Even... at work, if Bond wants more than... more privilege. Outside work, too. Q wants to say no. He tries his best to say no."

"But he can't." Danny could relate to that. "Bond is really charming."

Something made Danny believe that Alex agreed with him about it. The impression was confirmed as soon Alex as opened his mouth again:

"Do you want him?"

"I don't even know him!" Danny said, maybe a bit too fast, but shrugging and smiling. "And I don't want to be a half-assed Q substitute."

Danny was still smiling, but Alex took his words seriously.

"You are not..." Alex kissed him. "You are wonderful, Danny," he said between kisses. "You, being yourself. I love you."

Danny kissed him back. Alex's tone of voice and his particular way of thinking were what made the words powerful, meaningful. Danny feared he could never say them with the same weight. But he could try.

"I love you too, Alex. I love you."

-

On the next day, Danny was smoking outside the building on his break when Alex texted him.

_Mr. B asked me about you._

Danny chuckled. It was fair, since he kind of asked Alex about Bond as well.

_rly? what he asked?_

_If he could see you again._

_lol and what you said?_

_I said 'it is up to Danny'._

_nice_

_Mr. Q thought so too._

_isn't he jealous?_

This time, the answer took almost five minutes to arrive.

_I don't know._ And then - _I don't think so._

_and you?_

_I don't think so_ , Alex repeated.

_good!! break ending... see u tonight_

_See you. Be safe._

Danny stubbed out his cigarette. He was happy that he would see Alex very soon. Although, if he was correct, he would see Bond again even sooner.

-

And right he was. Bond was close to Danny's bus stop, leaning on his posh car again. Bond was looking good in his shades and a pinstriped blue suit, no tie.

"Hello, Mister Bond," Danny said, smiling.

"Hello, Mister Holt," Bond said, taking his shades off. The suit and the setting sun were giving his eyes a surreal shade of blue. Danny concluded that Bond probably knew that - there was a strong possibility that he had chosen the shades with the intent of taking them off at the right time. What he surely didn't preview was Danny seeing the sadness into the blue eyes.

They didn't shake (nor kiss) hands, to Danny's relief. Danny leaned on the car again, much closer to Bond this time.

Bond accepted the cigarette that Danny offered but didn't touch the lighter, preferring to use Danny's lit cigarette instead.

It was one of Danny's favorite flirt moves. Bond was a devil.

"How can I help you, mister Bond?"

"Call me James, please."

"Well, James," Danny said, with all seriousness. "I introduced myself as just Danny and yet you call me Mister Holt."

The wrinkles on the side of Bond's eyes did a small smile-ish movement that softened Bond's whole expression. Danny could watch his face doing that all day long.

But he shouldn't, should he?

"Just Danny, then. I'm not carelessly bothering your evening, Danny." He took a card from his breast pocket and gave it to Danny. His fingers lingered on Danny's. "Here. A job offer."

"I don't..."

"Not to do with espionage. Not quite. She is a friend of mine, she needs someone clever and insightful to work with her."

"Illegally? I don't do anything illegal anymore. And Alex would kill me, you know that."

Bond looked at him and smiled, finally.

"No, nothing illegal. Call her or send her an email with your résumé. She will know that I sent you."

"Thank you." Danny looked at the card. It had a light blue background, imprinted with dark blue letters. "But don't worry about me, I'm doing okay."

"I know. I'm just saying thank you," Bond said.

"For what?"

"For saying yes to my next question."

Danny got a good guess about what was the question. Bond was right: Danny would say yes, of couse he would. But he asked anyway.

"What question?"

"Dinner with me on Wednesday. I come get you at eight sharp. Don't worry about anything. Dress casually, but warm." Bond touched Danny's face for less than a second. "Will you answer yes?"

"Yes," Danny said, beaming. "Yes."

This time, Bond kissed him lightly on the lips as a goodbye.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive!!! :D Life is chaos but I'll never abandon this fic.

Q was exhausted. If his work was difficult enough before, now it was virtually unbearable. Some of the MI-5 tech people were his since the merging, but instead of helping they were nothing more than a heavier load; a unskilled, untrained, untalented bunch.

(Guessing by their whispering, they were also oblivious to the importance of interpersonal relations in MI-6 operations. If M, Eve, and Bill were like family to him, if he had a lot of friends and a lover among his subordinates and operatives, it was because this made his work better, his decisions enriched. It was a deliberated choice.)

Another source of disturbance was that the double-oh section wasn't named that anymore, not formally, even if former double-ohs continued being granted with a voluminous budget and their killings were still kindly dissembled. They even kept being referred by their previous codenames. As provided, the consequent paperwork was a nightmare.

The forced smiles and embrances he gave to a particular double-oh were yet more tiring. The endless banter, James' attempts to lure him once again, how lonely Q felt even before the Spectre clusterfuck, how he overwhelming it all was since the too-many-feelings-for-a-complete-jerk clusterfuck.

He had missed James. It would have been better if James had never returned altogether. James meant an excessive amount of paperwork essentially made of lies. 

On the other hand, Alex was a ray of light in Q's life. Alex held him tightly and never asked anything from him. Alex was younger and prettier and his lips were like a dream, the softest of them. Alex had those enormous hands. Q was quite in need of those big hands touching him, assuring him, making him come so freely. 

-

Q was aware of everything there was to know about Danny. He had checked by himself that they were, indeed, a bit alike. Danny was no doubt prettier, though; his body stronger, his face more pleasant. No glasses, no anxiety. A beautiful boy with a golden heart and a troubled past.

And a date with 007 the very next night.

-

It was fine. In a purely rational way, it was even better than fine: it was kind of magnificent. Even Alex was dealing nicely with that. 

"I'm not in any position to judge him." Alex said in a low voice. _Because you are shagging me?_  Q wanted to ask, _or because you too want to shag James?_ Naturally, he would never ask. Particularly because he had to make Alex's words his and admit he wasn't in any position to make judgements whatsoever. 

_Would you rather sleep with them tomorrow?_

Also because they were still at work, at Alex's small and neatly organized room. Alex was collecting reports about equipment use, Q right by his side reading and correcting some data regarding his extended staff. Even if they worked together only once a week, they always fell in a safe and comfortable work rhythm. Their shoulders brushed sometimes and Alex would hate this kind of touch if Q was anyone else, but Q wasn't a random person. Not anymore. 

Interlaced with work talk, they were discussing James and Danny's date. 

"I'm just concerned that Danny is going to be hurt." Q said. "Furthermore, I think it's inequitable that I haven't even met him yet."

Alex lowered his voice until it was nothing more than a whisper. 

"Danny is... experienced in relationship matters. I try not to worry on his behalf." Alex brushed his fingers on the back of Q's hand. "You shouldn't worry either."

Q quietly nodded. They, too, had a date next night. A proper date this time: he would have dinner with Alex at a Japanese restaurant and spend the night with him and everything would be fantastic. He missed Alex even when he was right besides him; he missed the tenderness of the kissing and the intensity of the sex. Alex really was an outstanding, considerate, enthused lover. Q refused to spend all his time with Alex thinking about James.

-

Alex gave him a ride so they could share a handful of kisses. He ended up jerking Q off in the car, then going to Q's flat with him to wash his hands and to do some more kissing. In the end, he was late enough to be anxious about it, enough to flee away from the flat as if a target was place right on his chest.

Q was a bit lost to be at home much earlier than he used to. It was all right, though, he rationalized - he needed to rest. What seemed as heartache could just as well be only lack of sleep, since he had been sleeping even less than the usual in the last two or three months.

He took a long shower, taking his time washing and drying his hair, choosing his best pyjamas. He ordered Thai food, opened a bottle of wine, put some soft music, played with the cats. It was like a date with himself.

Then he sat on the sofa, opened his laptop and started to work again. A personal project of sorts, some development to Alex's work: ways to feed it from international databases, helping the program to read and understand people from different cultures. Since Q took the project to his hands its rights were technically MI-6's, but neither Q nor Alex were working on it during office hours. 

He ate in front of the computer, lost in work until three in the morning. The cats were sleeping or licking each other by his side, paying him some quiet company. Q wanted to call Alex. Maybe send a clever text, a random link, a cute image. A picture of the cats. Anything. Even a meme would do. But Alex was with Danny, or sleeping, and that was all right, even though he... wanted to call. He could call James, perhaps. He probably ought to call James.

That was the last straw. He turned his phone off, took two pills and went to sleep.

-

The strangest dream: he was naked, standing, being kissed and touched by Alex, James, and four or five versions of himself. All of them clothed, every Q dressed with one of his favourite clothes. One of his versions was Danny, of course, Q just didn't know which one. He was busy being more aroused than ever before.

Alex was on his knees, sucking him off. James was behind him, supporting his weight and teasing his hole. One of the Qs (or Dannies?) was kissing his mouth, another sucking his nipples. The other Qs were feeling him everywhere they could reach and, it seemed, each other too. As Q's conscience started to expand, he began feeling such as if Alex's, James', and Q's bodies and hands and lips were his own, touching and being touched, kissing and being kissed, blowing and being blowed. He came and woke up surrounded by feelings from all of them: lust, yes, but also care and kindness.

Wanting the dream to last a little while, Q kept his eyes closed as he rolled away from the wet sheets. When he woke up again, it was all completely forgotten.

-

Q arrived at work long after lunch time. The original Q Branch was working as efficiently as ever, the new people from MI-5 just pretending to work in the horrible usual way. Sadly, they were his priority, because they didn't function well without orders and didn't take them from anyone other than Q himself, especially when it was a slow day. Only 001 was at service, but he had his own backup team in the field. 

The next stop was Alex's office. When Q opened the door, Alex face changed into pure relief from seeing him; he even indulged Q with one of his rare smiles. 

"I was just belated, Alex, not dead," Q tenderly said from the doorway. "How are you?" he asked. Alex just nodded in response, so he continued. "It's a pity, but I need to go already, or else I'd need to work through the night... which would be horrible, because if I'm not mistaken I have a date tonight?"

"You have a very important date tonight, I reckon" Alex nodded, as if it was the most serious matter. 

Q chuckled. 

"I can barely wait."

-

As usual, Alex went to see Danny whilst Q stayed a little more at his office. Q arrived late and needed to leave at the right time, then he worked twice as hard the whole day. 

He took a shower in his office small bathroom and changed into clean, casual clothes before finishing his work day. When James arrived, only half surprisingly, he too was fresh from a shower and wearing more casual clothes. It seemed as if they were ready for a double date. 

"Q." James said from the middle of the office. 

"007! Good to see you." Q replied, still on his chair, eyes fixed on the papers he was putting in order. "Hopefully you're here to deal with an unavoidable and unpostponable work issue." 

James smirked.

"You're not that lucky." He approached and leaned on the side of the table. It was respectfully way further than he used to when he and Q were... you know. "I just want to talk to you."

Q smiled at him, one of those fake smiles he gave half to convince himself, half to enerve James. But he still couldn't gather the courage to look at James' eyes.

"Talk you may, 007."

James didn't, though, not immediately. He seemed to be waiting something or perhaps only torturing Q. But his presence itself wasn't cumbersome and after two or three minutes Q was distracted with work again.

"Madeleine is a great, fantastic woman." James said then, almost startling Q. What the hell was he doing to drive Q crazy this time? "I tried to give myself away, to love her completely." James voice was low and paused. It was even a bit rough, as if when talking about feelings he was using a specific, underused tone of voice. "But Madeleine taught me that effort alone isn't enough," he continued, his voice was even lower. Q looked at him at last, but James wasn't looking back. It was suitable; then Q could look at him without feeling his brave resolutions melting away.

It was a trap, however: James laid his eyes on him before starting to talk again, and then Q couldn't look away. "Maybe I tried with her because I knew I wouldn't get it. Not completely, not in the same way I could've... Not the same. Then I came back."

Q blinked twice to break the spell and looked down again. He didn't want to respond or even think about any of this. Those were broken words, but full of something that Q had learned to never expect, not from James Bond. Not when they were twenty minutes from dates with other people, not ever. Q didn't believe it was a lie, and he was truly impressed that James could care about him enough to say things like that. Nonetheless, his effort alone wasn't enough.

It would never be enough. Q felt somewhat released by this insight; all this time he had been stronger than he thought. James tried, Q resisted. For the first time, he resisted. That meant that he could suffer for James, think about him, and even love him, but until his feelings vanished for good Q could do all of this in a safe way, far from James' bed, from any kind of hope or dream about them being able to make it work. 

James reached out to touch Q, but Q raised his hand to stop him.

"Then it's wonderful that now you can love Danny. I know he must be a great, fantastic man." Q said, still calm. He got up, shut the laptop down, gathered his things and walked to the lift. "I wish you the best, James." 

James stayed still and silent. 

-

Q took a MI-6's car to the restaurant. He cried a little, only a few tears. That was the first time he cried since long before his involvement with Bond, so many months ago. He had been sad, of course, but mostly quietly angry. He and James had so much potential when it all started. They had the right kind of chemistry in bed; since the beginning they had skipped the awkward phase getting right through being real lovers. 

He knew that their astonishing intimacy surprised James, too. That wasn't a byproduct of James' sex skills, just as the too-fast-too-soon almost loving words they traded weren't a gift (nor a curse) from alcohol and neither from any gods of lovemaking. That was only them, that was theirs. 

But it ended. And that was alright! Q was alright now. He entered the restaurant with a brave smile.

Alex was stunning. He had his hair freely combed, letting it curl. He was wearing a navy blue sweater that Q never saw before and man, was it perfect on him. His sitting on the floor posture was impeccable, and he was reading the menu in Japanese.

"Good evening, gentleman." Q greeted, taking off his shoes and sitting on the floor across the table.

"Good evening, man of honor." Alex said, passing the English menu to Q. His almost-smile died down when he lift up his eyes to Q's face. "Is there something wrong?"

"Something wrong? Why?" Q asked, not wanting to talk about James, but interested in what gave him away. 

"If my studies are right" _and they are_ , Alex didn't add, "your face has the typical signals of recent crying. You don't need to talk about it, you know. But, if you want to..."

Alex stopped right before getting too nervous to keep talking. With a gesture, Q asked for Alex's permission to take his hand. Alex nodded and opened his hand to Q. It was a big hand with the softest skin, and Q allowed himself a second to remember the feeling of that hand on his neck, his waist.

"It's nothing serious, don't worry." Q said. "Just... just James problems."

"Is he harassing you again?"

"No." Q answered, a bit too fast. "Yes. Probably."

Alex caressed Q's hand. The waitress came in, greeted them in Japanese. Alex responded in Japanese as well, in his awful but cute accent that made her smile. Then, he ordered his food in English. He was reading the Japanese menu just to certify he could understand most of it; he asked for the same dishes every time. Q ordered one of the things on the menu he had never eaten, and a whole bottle of his favorite distilled Japanese beverage. 

"Can I help you in any way?" Alex asked after the waitress left. He was stroking Q's hand the whole time. It was the first time he let anyone (other than James, of course) see any display of affection between them. 

"You are here. You're already helping a lot." Q said, drawing random patterns on Alex's smooth palm. The waitress came with their drinks. "And how are you?" Q asked. It was completely different from when he asked at MI-6.

"Worried about you." Alex said, with no hesitation. Q smiled; he had been alone for so long he forgot the feeling of someone caring about him. 

"I'm alright, Alex. I'm... decently well." As always, he asked the next question directly related with about Alex's wellbeing. "How about Danny?"

"He is well, I think. Good health. Well dressed. Scared. Worried about hurting your feelings, and mine. Uncertain. Excited. Mostly happy, although I'm not really sure about it. Not yet." Alex answered. Q didn't mean to ask how Danny was  _right now_ but he was getting used to this kind of response. Alex's mind seemed to be constantly cataloging and organizing Danny's (and lately, Q's) feelings. "Bond got him a job."

"What? Is this true? A job where?" Now Q was the one uncertain and excited. James wanting casual sex with a cute boy was one thing, James being thoughtful and caring with a stranger was another. Unless it was some kind of mortal shadowy job. 

"A recruitment agency. They worked with us in the 70's. I couldn't find more recent data."

"But does it seem okay? As in, legal?"

"They are highly specialized and protected. I think they find people for agencies like ours, top executives, and... so on."

"Illegal activities, then? Oh my god." Q wanted nothing but more information to work with and a secure connection to search by himself. Not that he didn't trust Alex's research or Bond's brain but, yeah, he didn't.

"No, not illegal. Here." Alex passed his mobile to Q. Most of his findings were there. "I planned to show you what I found."

The food arrived. Q kept drinking but ate only two or three bites, immersed in the agency data. He was finally satisfied when he put together a considerable amount of information, including names he could recognize as not-evil. He adjusted his glasses and gave the mobile back to Alex.

"I... forgive me. I just... I needed to understand more." 

"I know. You are right to worry." Alex said. 

"Is it a good job?" Q asked.

"The payment is good, but I'm not sure. It's too complex. It truly is a work for a people person," Alex said, smiling and making Q smile too. "He talks to all kinds of people and by doing that he discovers if they're suitable for certain positions. I don't know how."

"Probably magic," Q laughed. He took Alex's hand on his again and kept drinking. His mind was starting to feel happily cloudy with the alcohol. Alex was the best lover he could ask for. Danny deserved a nice people-person-job. James sort of said almost sweet things to him. That last thought was the alcohol talking, but well, it was true. It didn't matter, though; he was free. 

-

Alex sucking him off made Q half remember the dream. Not the whole thing, just the overwhelming sensations, one on top of another, making him come without warning in Alex's mouth. Alex took it whole, swallowing every drop. 

"You taste very differently," Alex said, after. Q kissed him to taste himself too. It was their first time doing anything without condoms or other forms of protection. Since they had access to the tests from at least eighty percent of the London population, including MI-6 workers, Q didn't care much about it. 

"I'm sorry," Q said, because Alex cared. "I understand we shouldn't."

Alex just kissed him again. It tasted like a dream.

-

"Danny wants to meet you, too," Alex said at breakfast. Q grinned.

"Fucking finally," he said. He wanted for so long to meet Danny and thank him for a lot of things that he probably couldn't even say out loud. Between Alex and James and wishful thinking it was too easy to forget that Danny was, technically, a stranger. 

"He suggested we take you for a walk. In the countryside," Alex said. He was talking in his this-is-a-well-rehearsed-line voice. Q did not enjoy walks nor the countryside.

"I'd love it." he said, the grin still on his face. He would. 


End file.
